The Immortal | Prequel Story |

Chapter 17 ~ Can't Hold Back the Feeling

After a while, Írásom went over to the little kitchenette in the corner where she poured herself a glass of water from a pitcher. Mallen never fed in her presence, always going to the blood cellar whenever he needed a drink. He kept himself well fed so he wouldn't become thirsty around her.

Because he was used to bringing food for Írásom, Mallen made a little kitchenette in the corner of his room so Írásom could help herself to any food or drink anytime she wanted. This kept him from making several trips out of his castle grounds. Mallen felt restless whenever he had to go out, not liking it whenever he had to leave Írásom alone, even when she was safely locked in his room.

Usually Írásom went for her 'room' in the bathroom, but this time she surprised Mallen by saying, "I think I'll sleep on the bed this time. Do I need to bring my pillows in from the bathroom, or will your bed pillows be sufficient?"

Mallen stared at her in surprise. It was the first time Írásom dared to go near his bed, let alone sleep on it. He stuttered, "Uh, yeah, sure. You can bring your own pillows or use my own, whichever you like."

Mallen stood facing the fireplace, feeling as though his face was just splashed with hot coals. He made no movement as Írásom chose to bring a few pillows from the bathroom.

Írásom cautiously went over to the bed, looking over its exquisite purple covers and the oaken headboard, with carved décor and a canopy bed layout that had a cover on top and four posts, making it look regal and fancy with a brown lacquer finish.

Mallen moved towards the divan he slept on, turning so Írásom wouldn't see his face. He didn't know why it felt so intimate for someone he cared about to be sleeping on his bed, even though he wasn't sleeping with her.

Knowing she was going to be within closer distance sleeping in the same room as he, Mallen forced himself to flee from those strange emotions and focus on his own bedtime routine. He went behind a dressing screen, changing out of his riding clothes and into a loose-fit shirt and pants for sleeping.

Mallen emerged from the dressing screen the moment Írásom turned from arranging a pillow on the bed. Her eyes ran over his half-open shirt, his smooth glistening pale skin, his longish hair, his attractive eyes. His shirt was muted purple, his pants navy blue.

Mallen nervously ran a hand through his hair, going over to the divan. "Your clothes are in that separate dresser and wardrobe," he said, looking away.

Írásom hesitated, the only light in the room coming from the glow of the fireplace. She went over to pick out some clothes to wear for bed.

Mallen heard Írásom go behind the dressing screen and unlace her clothing, a soft sound but a perceptible one. He kept his face averted as he smoothed out the covers over the divan. He heard Írásom's bare feet lightly tread on the floor, her voice startling him when she spoke just a few footsteps away.

"Thank you for taking me horseback riding. It was the first time I felt truly myself in a long time. I wanted to thank you and let you know how much I appreciate it. I hope you have a good night, Mallen."

Mallen turned slowly, purposely not using his natural almost-instantaneous vampiric speed to move. His eyes widened when he saw Írásom standing in a cream white nightdress.

It was long, floor-length and simple but modest and elegant in style, with long sleeves, made of the softest cotton material. It was slim and comfortable to wear, more loose-fitting than her normal dresses. It had little blue flowers going down the chest area, cleverly sewn to ribbon out in neat fashion.

"I hope you have a good night too, Írásom," Mallen said, giving her a warm smile. He turned back to the divan, trying hard not to think of how good Írásom looked in that nightdress. He turned the fire low, setting it to cooling embers that glowed red.